


In The Blood

by jiminnienuggets



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Drug Use, Experimentation, Hunter!Troy, M/M, Vampire Hunters, Vampire!Nick, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 23:25:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16251947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiminnienuggets/pseuds/jiminnienuggets
Summary: The hunger was strong and painful, another form of addiction that no matter how hard Nick tried to fight, he just couldn't. And then there was Troy Otto, a hunter determined to find an answer to his question and Nick was his latest test subject.





	In The Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! so I've been kinda... out of it this last week. Last few days I've been suffering from back pain and have been having the most difficult time concentrating on getting any writing done. I'll get the 2nd chapter of 3 Steps done, but until then, here is this. Honestly, this was supposed to be the first scene in just a long one-shot, but I kinda like it as a pre-face. I'm starting to question whether or not the rest of the story will be just one long one-shot/one chapter, or have separate chapters, we shall see but for now we'll say this will be 2 chapters, with the 2nd one being extremely long! 
> 
> I got this idea from a Trick IG chat I'm in with some awesome people (if ya'll wanna join just hit me up? Or PunkyIggy or Akaisha_Loire. It's amazing! We are constantly making au's in there!!!), so this will act as my Halloween story for this month! i hope you guys enjoy vampires. i do! These vampires will be my own personal kind so they'll have my own twists instead of following any other vampires from other series. It's better that way, right?
> 
> Anyways, please enjoy this preface! Its short but I hope it's good!

**Preface - As If There’s a Choice**

 

Troy was hesitating.  
  


_“Don’t ever hesitate. It’ll get you killed.”_   
  


His hands were shaking, the machete he held already slick with blood. Knees aching at how long he’d been kneeling on them, the blade poised over the neck of the man suffering beneath him. He had to do it, but he didn’t want to.  
  


_“Kill the damn thing, Troy! Don’t you want to be a man? A hunter? Don’t you screw up this legacy, child!”_ His father’s words echoed in his ears, the sound slurring as he remembered the drunkenness of him.   
  


He’d only been ten, the girl in front of him only sixteen, beaten and abused, begging for her life. As he stared at her, the bruises disappeared from view, but the blood soaking her mouth remained. But her eyes were wide, confused and terrified and not knowing what was happening except that she was about to be murdered.  
  


And now here he sat, hesitating just like that first time, like that last time, only this time it wasn’t some random girl ( _“A monster Troy! She’s a monster! You put an end to this thing!”_ ), but the best friend he’d had since a child. Troy counted him as a friend at least.   
  


The breath was nonexistent, skin pale, veins dark and blue and… lifeless. He wasn’t alive. Mike wasn’t alive. Even though his eyelids were starting to flutter and open, he wasn’t alive. He hadn’t been alive from the moment he died and Troy should’ve killed him before he had ever woken up.  
  


Bodies surrounded them--or rather, bits of bodies. Heads and arms, tendons still stringing from the cut up corpses. Troy was almost drenched. It’d been a battle, and the others had all passed. He was the best, he survived, he always survived, and Mike normally survived because of him, but not this time.

The thing had known how important Mike was to him and that’s why he’d done it; forced the blood into his mouth and down his throat and then thrust his hand straight through his chest, effectively killing him before Troy even had a chance to bring his machete through the creature’s neck.  
 

But once he had, he didn’t stop. The blade kept moving, slicing, tearing the thing apart until it was an unrecognizable pile of mush by his feet.  
  


That’d been hours ago. Troy had dropped to the ground next to Mike, his hand still tight around the machete. He had to do it. He knew what his father would say--he had to do it. He could even hear the words.  
  


_“Your friend died the moment the blood touched his lips! Now destroy the thing that wants to take him over! Destroy it and don’t look back!”_ And he meant to--he was. But Mike opened his eyes.   
  


“T-Troy…?” Mike’s voice was weak, almost non-existent and the blade almost fell from Troy’s hand at the sound of it. He didn't want to. He really didn’t want to. “What’s… what’s happened? Where--” Mike turned his head, seeming to regain more strength only to see the carnage that surrounded them. His eyes lit with recognition and then dimmed as he seemed to remember.  
  


“You didn’t make it, Mikey…” Troy said softly, unusual for him. He was normally harsh and cold, or perhaps charismatic, but always that underlying tone of uncaringness. Not this time.  
  


“You--” Mike tried to sit up, but Troy quickly dropped the machete, pushing him back down by his shoulders. His strength wasn’t there yet, but he’d woken, it meant the blood had worked. He’d turned, and Troy couldn’t waste much time. A newborn was difficult to kill, their strength supreme and Troy was already weakened. “You don’t have to!”  
 

Troy was almost disgusted at the words. He didn’t have to…? As if he had a choice? Of course he _had_ to; there was no choice to be had. Mike was a monster, a creature not meant to exist. A pure evil that had to be destroyed. And Troy was the one who had to do it. He’d been trained to do it since before he had ever really even understood it.   
 

So no. Troy didn’t have a choice. The choice had been made for him.  
  


“Just close your eyes and I’ll make it quick--” Mike pushed up again, and this time it was stronger. Troy could barely hold him down and he picked up the machete again, placing it beneath his friend’s-- _no, not friend. It’s just the body_ \--neck. “Stop it, Mike!”  
  


“I’ll leave.” He continued to beg, sounding panicked and desperate. Mike had always been this way. Terrified. A coward. Troy had always had to drag him around, force him into things. It seemed this time wouldn’t be any different. “I’ll disappear somewhere! You’ll never see me again and I’ll never feed! Just let me go!”  
  


“You won’t have a choice!” Troy was pissed. Mike made him pissed. As if he could _let him go_ . As if Mike could _help it_. He was a monster, it’s what he was. There was no controlling something like this.   
  


Mike had to die. For good.  
  


“ _Fuck_ \--Troy, please!” Mike would be crying, but there were no tears to be had and he seemed to realize it himself at the same time. “I love you! Alright? Don’t do this to me!”   
  


The words struck him like his own machete in his heart and turned his entire body cold. The disgust stopped--only to turn to anger, his eyes like ice as he stared down at Mike before him. His fingers clenched harder around around the handle of the machete and he shook his head, barely, only slightly, but enough for Mike to know that he had absolutely said the wrong thing.  
  


“No--you don’t.” He hadn’t ever, and Troy knew that. How could he say something like that to him? Use his feelings against him like that?  
  


Mike tried to backtrack, his mouth opening but before he could get another word out, without any hesitation ( _father would be proud..._ ), Troy swung the machete down and the only sound there was was the sound of Mike’s head separating from the rest of his body.  
  


And then there was nothing else.

  



End file.
